


The Duality of Sleep

by amelia



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia/pseuds/amelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rory goes searching for a little something from the Doctor -- but is it the truth he needs or just some stress relief and awkward man sex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Duality of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Teaspoon and an Open Mind with two subsequent chapters, under the title "Rory Visits the Doctor."

Rory woke up sweating on the Tardis. It was too warm; he threw off the blanket; he had been dreaming again. He had imagined it again – Amy had just snuck in their room after having been with the Doctor. They’d been fucking all over the ship for weeks, on the console, in the bath, in the pool, in the far reaches of the library. And then pretending nothing had happened.

Rory knew she would never cheat on him—never—but somehow he kept waking up and imagining it vividly. He leaned over and kissed Amy’s shoulder but she didn’t stir from sleep. He smelled her—she smelled fresh and clean but still, he was unmistakably reminded of sex. 

Rory crept out of bed and down the corridor, suddenly awake. He felt he had been competing for quite some time with the Doctor. They both knew which man was more experienced, more cool, more competent. The Doctor dressed like a batty professor, but in the end, he had more confidence and allure than Rory ever would. 

Even good, quiet, loyal Rory was drawn to the Doctor’s charisma. His cock was throbbing in his pants. “Good boy,” he whispered to himself, trying to force his body to calm down.

Somehow, he found the doctor’s room and knocked. 

“Oh helloo Rory,” the Doctor beamed as Rory peered inside. The Doctor was cross-legged on the floor, with a monocle on one eye and clutching a piece of string and wire and gears in one hand, with pliers on the other, clearly tinkering with something. But he set his project down on a table and stood up.

“Uh, Doctor,” Rory’s face flushed red, and he wasn’t sure what to say. He had just noticed the Doctor’s shirt was half unbuttoned, and the wrong buttons were attached, and one suspender was hanging off his shoulders. The bow tie was unfolded by the bedside.

“Is something wrong, Rory? Is Amy all right?”

“Yes, Doctor, she’s fine. Are you?” Rory stuttered. “I just needed something.”

“Come in, Rory. I’m doing brilliantly. What could you need, a steaming glass of milk to help you sleep? Blimey, no, milk is terrible and for children besides.”

“No, Doctor, I don’t need anything from the kitchen, I just came to find, well, I came to find you.”

“Well, Rory, I’m glad you did. You see, I was pondering the duality of sleep and sometimes its causality.”

“The what?”

“Well, you’re either sleeping or you’re not sleeping, but sometimes you’re in between and dreaming, but not dreaming. But if you’re really awake while you’re dreaming, sometimes that causes you to dream further or to wake up. But like Schroedinger’s cat, you can’t tell what the situation is until you look closely.”

And he waved the screwdriver in Rory’s face, which only caused Rory to blush further and become more confused. 

The Doctor tossed the screwdriver aside. “But because you’re clearly not sleeping, I’m sure you didn’t come down here to my bedroom to philosophize on the nature of sleep, which means you have a question for me. Or you’re about to ask me FOR something. And whatever it is, I will try to do what I can about it.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Rory stuttered again. But he couldn’t think what to say.

“Come on, then! Out with it. You’re an honorable man, the last Centurion, the noble Roronicus.” The Doctor leaned in toward Rory. “But I can’t help you unless you articulate yourself.”

“I dreamed,” Rory said, “That Amy was here with you before she came to bed with me.”

“I suppose you’ve also dreamed of vampires and stone angels and star whales, too,” said the Doctor.

“But those things are real,” said Rory. 

“So you’re accusing me for making you imagine that I’m sleeping with your wife?”

“Not exactly,” Rory said. The Doctor always knew what to say and that baffled Rory. “I mean, I just wanted to find out what I was missing,” 

The Doctor smiled. “Do you trust me, Rory?”

Rory reached out and grasped the Doctor’s shoulders. “I guess so. Sure.”

“And people accuse me of blushing, but you Rory are absolutely red,” said the Doctor. “I see, I see.” He nodded sagely.

“I’m sorry,” Rory said, trying to stand straight and confident. “Do you think you can help me, Doctor?”

“You are a brave man,” said the Doctor. “And don’t apologize. Whatever you need to know, I’ll try to show you.”

“You will?”

“Yes, Rory, oh yes, I will,” the Doctor grinned. He leaned forward and slowly wrapped his hands around Rory’s waist and they stood there for a moment. They could smell each other—an animal fear, and the stench of testosterone-laced sweat.

Rory felt his cock swell again and press into his trousers. And realized the Doctor was standing so close their legs were touching. He reached for the Doctor’s waist to press him closer, and the Doctor leaned toward him. Their faces touched and Rory pressed his mouth into the Doctor’s. 

It was more like wrestling than a kiss – they struggled to pull off each other’s shirts as their teeth clanged together. Rory’s nose got in the way as usual, and the Doctor’s hair fell in his face. They mashed their hips together and, yes, the Doctor had a man’s usual parts. Like Rory, he was hot and hard. 

The Doctor was always a contradiction—he was rough but tender at the same time. He pressed Rory into the doorway and grasped Rory’s shoulders.

Rory reached his hands down against the Doctor’s waist. He couldn’t contain himself—he had to feel the Time Lord’s cock. Through his trousers it felt like any other man’s cock. The Doctor groaned and they pulled away to look at each other for a minute. They started rubbing each other through their boxers, humping each other’s legs and locking their lips in wet, messy kisses.

Rory heard himself heaving and whimpering, and his forehead dripped with sweat. The Doctor grunted and groaned. “Rory, Rory Pond, Rory _Williams._ ”

Rory came with a cry, thrusting against the Doctor’s hands and hips. The Doctor had used Rory’s full name!—he wasn’t just an attachment to Amy any more. 

Rory squeezed his eyes shut and kissed the Doctor harder, reaching his hand into the doctor’s underwear to feel the bare skin of his shaft, the soft wetness, the round protrusion of the head of his cock. As Rory’s hand grew gentler, the Doctor moaned. Then Rory moved his hand faster, encircling the Doctor’s cock with a firm grip and yanking at it until the Doctor was grinding against him. 

The Doctor came with an exhaled groan. “Yes!”

They were both covered in each other’s ejaculate and, their passion subsiding, pulled away and looked at each other more soberly. Both thought the other man had the stranger nose.

“Yeah, right,” stammered Rory. “Thanks for that.”

“Rory, thank you,” the Doctor said. He wanted to hug the little man, but Rory was already out the door.

The Doctor sighed. He looked down at himself and the mess, and wondered if Rory would even remember in the morning. He rubbed his hands together and sniffed them, and smiled. It wasn’t always time vortex theory and loneliness on the Tardis, after all.


End file.
